Feel the burn, people! ;)

My dearest, darlingest friends-and-relations:
      You may have noticed there is a slight strain to my voice as I speak to you. You may realize that my heart is pittering irregularly. You may have noticed, in short, that I am not myself. It is all the fault of my aching muscles which is all the fault of a splendid new exercise regime. It's called T-Tapp and it is extraordinary and I mentally love it, but my body hates me for it. At least right now. I am quite determined to continue on with it--after all, it's easy when I've got three sisters, a cousin, an Aunt, and Mama doing it with me. We are a hilarious bunch--imagine the Bennet girls with Aunt Phillips and Mrs. Bennet doing an exercise class and you'll pretty much have us. We laugh, we nearly cry, we tease each-other, we wollop about in a very strange-looking fashion, and generally wear ourselves out in a good way. During this new regime I have made two important discoveries:

Yes, I can do that. Can't you? ;)

• Discovery One: Rachel has no stomach muscles. Whatsoever.
• Discovery Two: It is quite possible to be sore in your chest and between your shoulders in such a way that your heart feels pinched. :P
• Discovery Three: I go about my exercise in an "Aha!" fashion--Aha! You, Body, thought you were getting away with something? Take that!

So there were three discoveries after all. All I can say is that this is feeling great--in my heart of hearts--and I suspect my body will accustom itself to this unaccustomed activity soon enough. :)

Love Never Fails!

Please listen to this song--it will bless you so much! :)

"Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away." -1 Corinthians 13:8-10

Happy Valentine's Day, girls! <3

Hilarious Mail... :)

 

"It is my opinion that a person who can write a long letter with ease cannot write ill."

                -Jane Austen

My pupils may cause me great secret amusement with their definitions, spelling, and their answers to reading comprehension, but there's certainly nothing wrong with their imaginations! These letters came to me after I assigned Leah and Anna to write a charming letter from one character to another that had to be at least 2 pages long. I am  rather proud of them. Enjoy! :) (All spelling, grammar, and punctuation as the original)

Leah's Letter: Comprised of a plethora of commas, hyperboles, and a cold heart

Dearest Adelaide,
     How are you this glorious day? Has your cold bettered? As I write to you, I am siting in the Duke of Shamphires seat, and at his most equisite desk. The Duke's drawing room has just recently been decorated, and in the latest French style. Now, you may wonder, how on earth I came here, and I shall tell you.
I have recently made an aquaintence with his daughter. She is the sweetest creature I have ever beheld. She has a slight temper when she is riled. But beyond that there is no seeable fault with her. I am having a wonderful time in the country. We have attended 5 balls, 3 dances & 6 feasts in one week. Though I must admit, I was disappointed in their lack of propriety. What should I expect from country people?
But the Duke's "palace" brings a awed presence in that part of the Shampshire. When people enter the palace, of the most important people of the land, they seem to know they are in the presence of someone higher than they.
Anyway, dearest, you must tell me what have you been doing of late? I'm dying ot hear all the latest town gossip. Has Gertrude married that Italian yet? Has Jenny been to see you lately?
Oh! I wanted to tell you of this young man I met at the Himlet's ball. He was from France, doing a favor to his uncle. He had dark brown hair, with a head of curls, and 2 curls that must have escaped the comb that morning, and were standing impishly out of place. His manner was charming, but I could sense a sort of conceit about him. I must do him credit and mention that he was very gentlemanly and honored me by dancing with me twice. (Well, at least he thought he honored me,) but actually it was quite the opposite. I detested dancing with him, because I saw a man, who I liked much better, and he was moving toward me, and right then "he" had to ask me, and of course I couldn't turn him down.
How I long for you. I do wish you were here. Of course you caught cold right before the day we were going to go with Amelia's family. Well, at least I'm here to do the things here, so I can tell you on my return home.
Oh! Speaking of Amelia's family, they are staying here, at the Duke's house, as well. Amelia's been out almost every night we have been here, with a fellow by the name of William Ruxeby. I like him well enough, it is obvious she likes him too!
You should be proud of me, I have read a book of William Wordsworth's poems today. You are always wanting me to read more, so to oblige you, while you are ill, I did. And I have started one of Dicken's books as well, "Mansfield Park", I believe. Oh, Dear me! I mis-said the author's name. Jane Austen wrote, "Mansfield Park" Charles Dickens wrote a great many other grand books.
That's another things, the libraries here, are superb. There are 2 downstairs, and 2 above the stairs.
As I look about me, hanging on the walls, are portraits of 1 and twenty men and women. It is funny, because you can tell who had the cheery disposition, and who hadn't.
The ones in lighter colors were smiling, the ones in dark colors looked concerned.
Well dearest, the clock chimes 3:00.
               Yours Truly,
                          Mary Ann Willshod

Anna's Letter: Characterized in chief by quick, slashing handwriting, abundantly missplaced commas, and creative spellings. :)

Dearest Jane,
       It was good to receive a letter from you! I can only hope your visit in London has been as you had anticipated. I do wonder though, if you have yet visited Miss Bingley? She and Mr. Bingley have been in London for several weeks now I believe. My stay at Aunt and Uncle's home has been....quite pleasant, although at times I feel lonly and ready to return to Longbourn. I think Father misses me, but who can blame him wholly, for staying with Mamma and Mary and Kitty, I'm sure can get on one's nerves. Have you heard from Charlotte recently? I am going to come and see, her, when I get a chance. I do hope she is doing well. It worries me when dear friends don't write or come to call after they marry and settle. Maybe she is busy with visits to Lady Cathrine Debourg! Oh Dear Jane, almost everyday I think of Lydia, and Mr. Wickom. Poor Lydia, how could she expose herself, and her family, to such gossip and run away with Mr. Wickom. But it is not so unexspected from Lydia.
Jane, I think we both should try our best to comfort Mamma, and try to cheer up Father, because Lydia really didn't think about Father, or Mamma when she ran away. Please write as soon as you, can, althouhg I"m sure London keeps you constantly on your toes! Oh! and if you hear from Charlotte, please write to me and tell me. But I would hope she would write to me, before she would you, seeing as we are good friends!
                  Love,
                    Lizzie

Alone...or Not?

As Valentine's Day approaches it can be tempting for me to start despairing (even tongue-in-cheek) about my lot as a single young lady. It is tempting to start betiding woe to my sisters: "This is so depressing--there's not a single guy I could marry even if he'd want me!" After all, nearly the only eligible guys I know are my brother and cousin... :P
I don't know about you girls, but my bouts of wistfulness in the marriage area jump me. They never creep up. I will be entirely content and all gung-ho for living the rest of my life in a nunnery if that would be what it takes, and then the next moment I will be seized with an overwhelming ache for a Someone of my own. I've told you I'm a romantic sort....

I'm sort of/kind of/really guilty of standing outside on more than one occasion and singing "Goodnight my Someone" when no one is listening. Ahem.

So what on earth do I do with these random/sporadic/vivid bouts of love and longing? Well, I'm not sure what your particular situation is, but I've told you mine. I have been spared many of what I'm sure would have been opportunities to get my heart entangled by the sheer lack of men in my circles. However, this brings up a different struggle--I am deeply in love with a Nobody. Seriously. I pray for my husband a lot and I can truly say this has caused me to love him...which is dumb because I do not have the slightest idea who he could be.

So back to the question. What on earth can a girl do with these moments?

I've been in this stage for the past couple of days...I think it was triggered by my watching Little Dorrit. For those of you who have not seen it, the hero is Arthur Clennam, and he's a man after my own heart. Contrary to what you find in most heroes (even our beloved Mr. Darcy) Mr. Clennam is not handsome. He's not particularly charming or witty, even. But he's good. He is so good. Learn his story and your heart will be forever melted....I think what gets me is that his character is such that he is very real. I actually feel that there is hope that I will meet a man like him one day.
I had forgotten how much I love him and then it all came flooding back. Note to Self: Never watch Little Dorrit when your heart is anything but perfectly staid and sober. But back to the point of this post. I was washing dishes and I suddenly knew what I needed to do. I needed to take a walk and talk to the Lover of my Soul. I finished up my chores, zipped up my coat and headed outside, and once I was quite sure that no one was listening, I started to pray aloud.
I told Jesus everything--from my wistfulness to my wish that Mr. Clennam was real to my wonderings about where my Someone will come from. And He listened. I know He did. And as I talked with Him in as conversational a way as I talk to my friends, the wistfulness slipped away, the longing quieted, the pain dulled, and I knew that He loved me. What do I look for in a husband? Someone to whom I am important. Someone who looks for me first thing when he walks in the door. Someone to whom one of my smiles would brighten his whole day. Someone, in short, who is mad about me.
And as I told all this to Jesus, He smiled at me. "Don't you see that One is Me?" He asked. "I'm crazy about you. If you had been the only on the face of the entire earth I would have died for you. Just for you, Rachel. I didn't come to die for all mankind. I came to die for one Rachel Heffington."
And suddenly, in that one moment, everything was set right. I don't have a man of my own. I will spend Valentine's day receiving sticky, over-loaded, precious cards from my siblings. There are no Secret Admirers for me, and I won't be getting any boxes of chocolates with a sweet card...but none of those things really matter because I have learned again just how much my Lover cares for me.

"...No fits, no fights, no feuds and no egos..." ;)

 "...Amigos....together!"

I had a perfectly beautiful, amazing, fun-filled, sweet-memory'd weekend with a very dear friend. It was so good that it was terrible to end it, so I thought I'd cheer us both up [and applaud all dear friendships] with a mass of quotes and pictures. :)

"It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid around them."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

"But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,

All losses are restored, and sorrows end."

 -William Shakespeare

"The best kind of friend is the one you could sit on a porch with, never saying a word, and walk away feeling like that was the best conversation you've had." -Author Unknown

"Love is like the wild-rose briar;

 Friendship is like the holly tree.

The holly is dark when the rose-tree blooms,

But which will bloom most constantly?"

-Emily Bronte

"But oh! the blessing it is to have a friend to whom one can speak fearlessly on any subject; with whom one's deepest, as well as one's most foolish thoughts come out simply and safely. Oh the comfort--the inexpressible comfort of being safe with a person--having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with a breath of kindness blow the rest away." -Dinah Kraik

"His Name is John." ;)

I realized that I did not tell you the final outcome of the entire dog-naming fiasco! ;) Well, here are three rather broad hints: [Four, actually] 

 

 

 

If that has thoroughly confused you--as it was meant to do--let me explain. The first chap is Winston Churchill. Got it? Thought so. The second chap is, of course, the ultra-amazing, entirely brilliant Sherlock Holmes. The third fellow is not George Washington (though I think they bear a resemblance) but Meriweather Lewis. You know, Lewis and Clark? And the fourth is our very much beloved C.S. Lewis.
So what does this have to do with our dog? Surely we didn't name him after all those men? What rot for a puppy.

Ahem.

Well.....

I've got a confession....

You see, there were twelve people to consult in the matter and only one puppy. We got it narrowed down to three names, and none of us could bear to just draw it out of a hat. But it had to be either Lewis, Sherlock, or Churchill.....or did it?
My rather brilliant sister Sarah had a wonderful "Snoggestion." Why not name him Churchill Sherlock Lewis, and then his official name would be "C.S. Lewis?" Ka-chow!
So that is the story of how our little puppy got such a huge name. We call him Churchill, and in my secret heart I call him Sherlock. It's a mess, but it works, and it does make rather a fond memory! :D

P.S. I have just now realized the irony of all these great men appearing on a pink blog background. Haha!

Not Glass-Threads or Frost-Work...

Dear Girls,
     Prepare yourselves for a ramble. :)
I have been thinking recently on the various kinds of friendships. I have many friends who I am very fond of, and several who I have termed "dear friends". These are the ones that I can pour my heart out to, who are such kindred spirits that I feel they sometimes know me better than I know myself.
What is it that makes such friends? I cannot quite say. I seem to have a homing instinct for kindred spirits--I will see a person and immediately know that she and I would be good chums, given the chance. And sometimes I am given the chance, as was the case with one of my dearest friends now. A real "soul-sister", if you will excuse a cliche. :)
But again, what is it that makes a friend? Certainly it is not only a person who enjoys the same things as you. I know many girls who I am not on intimate terms with who have similar interests as me. I think that friendship and companionship are two different things. There are many people I could happily be friends with, but there are fewer that I could choose as companions--people to live with day in and day out.

I have come to realize that, contrary to what I has thought for a long time, the best companions are not always those that are most like you. In beliefs, of course, it is important that your intimate friends and equally yoked with you, but in all other categories (situation, personality, likes, dislikes) it can be extremely beneficial to have your dearest friends be quite different than you. In the same way that two dull objects, but brushing and colliding with one another may grow to be sharp in time, so two friends, clashing in amiable difference, may become all the stronger for those collisions.
"As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another," Solomon said. And I have found it to be so. You see, it is pleasant to have a friend, a walking companion if you will, who agrees with you on every point, can share the same sensations over every view, every situation, every book and film and music you hear. But after a time such things can loose their luster if not coupled with a degree of originality. After all, what is it we seek in a friendship? Isn't it--to a certain point--to get outside of ourselves?
I have found it to be gloriously refreshing to make an observation on a point and see a friend smile and frown both, and say, "Really? I don't think so--" and then off they go making an indecently brilliant remark that would never have crossed my mind in ten years. Such friends are some of the best kinds, I think. After all, if we haven't a particular way of thinking (in my case, I am not exactly sensible or logical) mustn't we be taught? It's presumptuous and vain to think that we could happen upon all discoveries on our own. Sometimes we need to get a new perspective, a sparkling vision other than our own, and I bless the buttons of all my friends who provide that for me.
Of course I have some "dear friends" who are so much like me, it's ridiculous, and I treasure them as much as my gunpowder-girls. I just think that challenging, marveling friendships are precious. Please girls, never assume that because someone is bold and you are shy, or someone is quiet and you and merry and blithe, that you are incompatible--you might be missing out on a huge blessing!
In closing, I find that no words fit my thoughts any better than Emerson's. Therefore I will be quiet and let him speak:

"I do not wish to treat friendships daintily, but with the roughest courage. When they are real, they are not glass threads or frost-work, but the solidest thing we know."